Piracy
by Mica Romanus
Summary: Sherlock and Mycroft Holmes aren't known for their brotherly love. But what happened to cause such hostilities between them? A tale of how one event shattered the lives of many, and how it was all blamed on the great detective. Post-Reichenbach, Young Sherlock/Mycroft, and other stories. OC.
1. The Fall

**Chapter One**

**The Fall**

* * *

The cool wind bit at his face, tossing his hair wildly about. Sherlock gazed toward the ground as people passed below oblivious to the perplexing matter above them. Unaware of the horror they were about to witness. Sherlock's mind raced, he had hoped to avoid this dilemma. He'd hoped to have wormed his way out of Moriarty's plan. However there he was standing with shaking knees on the roof of Bart's Hospital. He had of course known there was the probability of the man behind him, splayed with his unseeing pale blue eyes gaping toward the sky, would get out of the situation. Remove himself from Sherlock's problem leaving him with only one option, Moriarty's option. But he had not thought that a man like Moriarty, with such ego, would kill himself to remove the obstacle. Now he had no choice, die, or kill the most important people to him. He smiled; to go back to his life before would be death. Alone with no one but himself, no one to stop his raging mind from tearing itself apart, no one to stop him from tearing himself apart. He hadn't fully realized the effect John's friendship had on him until that very moment. He had been his friend when no one else was, and that was worth dying for, it was worth protecting.

Sherlock scanned the horizon ignoring the sting of tears in his eyes. This was it. This was the end. His eyes were upon her before he even realized she was in his sights. Stepping out of her hired car, her long black hair rebelled against her, ripping frantically around her face, hiding her expression from him. It had been such a long time since they had last spoken, and as most of his conversations did, ended badly. He was even surprised she had come. Molly had done her job well. However if she stayed was another matter entirely, but that didn't matter to him now. Sherlock spotted John quickly exiting a cab. Dialing John's number he sighed knowing this would be the hardest conversation he would ever have. This would be the first time he had ever said goodbye to his best friend, even when others, like the dark haired woman who had finally spotted him on the roof, deserved those goodbyes as well.

* * *

Olivia didn't know why she had agreed to the request of an anonymous young woman, who'd called only hours ago. But something in the girl's voice was pleading.

"I have been asked to tell you to please arrive at Bart's Hospital in two hours." the shaking voice had demanded.

"May I ask who has made such a rather demanding request of my assistance?"

"An old friend, please you must come. He said you were the only person that could help. He said for him you wouldn't ask questions. You would be too curious to stay away."

"A nameless person telling me what I will do makes it very difficult not to just do the opposite." Olivia replied coolly.

"Please he needs your help" she whispered. Before Olivia could inquire further the line disconnected. Sighing she glanced at the clock, if she didn't leave now she wouldn't arrive in time. Smiling to herself she realized that was the desired effect, no time to think it over. It was now or never. She had a sneaky suspicion she knew exactly who was calling upon her. Gritting her teeth as her curiosity strengthened she called to her assistant.

"Helen I need a car now."

"Yes, Ma'am, but where are you going?" she said popping her head around the corner, confusion marking her expression.

"Saint Bartholomew Hospital, London."

"Why so sudden?"

"When you are acquainted with the type of people I am, you get used to it."

* * *

The London streets were busy, and the sky was darkening with the coming rain. Sighing as the car pulled off to the side she prepared herself for whatever plot required her assistance. She was rather eager to meet this mysterious young woman from the phone. The wind picked up as she stepped on to the curb tossing her hair across her face. Restraining the messy locks she glanced down the street toward the hospital. She couldn't recall if she had ever been to the location before but something did seem familiar about it. It was the fluttering of a long black coat that drew her eye to the rooftop. She smiled unconsciously as she recognized Sherlock's silhouette.

"Of course it would be you." she said to herself.

She stood stock still as she watched him teetering on the ledge. His arm outstretched as if pleading with someone below. Seconds seem overextended, each heartbeat she felt in her throat long and slow. The dread grew in her mind. Then slowly as if watching a car wreck, Sherlock lifted his arms out. The wind catching his coat, and in a blink of an eye he was falling. Olivia's breath caught, her body refused to move, her mind rejecting to process what she had just witnessed. It was the first scream that brought her back to reality and then her feet moved without her realizing. She ran at a breakneck pace down to the hospital, a crowd was gathering now but she could see Sherlock's out stretched hand, his blood like a puzzle snaking its way through the cracks in the pavement. She stood horrified as a man begged to be let through, desperately trying to take hold of Sherlock's hand.

"Mrs. Cavendish?" a young woman said, gently taking Olivia's arm. Finding it difficult to pull her eyes away from the scene in front of her, she slowly looked at the girl. Plain but pretty the young girl in her lab coat smiled at her awkwardly.

"Yes?" she breathed the word barely above a whisper.

"My name is Molly I need you to follow me inside, if you don't mind." Molly said her voice uneven as she fiddled with her clothing.

"No I can't leave him, I-I can't believe this!"

"It will be all right, I know you must be confused, I know I sure am. If you'll please come inside, you may be waiting for a little while. I'm not really sure how long this is going to take." Molly replied. As she spoke men from the hospital were lifting Sherlock onto a gurney wheeling him quickly inside. His friend was left sitting on the curb, blood stained his fingers but he didn't seem to care. His eyes looked as lifeless as Sherlock's had.

"Oh God I have to call Mycroft." Olivia said turning her back to the scene; she fumbled for her mobile phone completely ignoring the girl, but Molly was used to that. Molly's heart raced she had to be firm, she had to take control, just like Sherlock wanted.

"He said not to do that, at least not yet. Please come inside. I will make us some tea." Molly insisted.

"You're the girl from the phone."

"Yes, Sherlock told me to get in touch with you. Come inside, soon things should start making sense again. Well sort of." Dropping her mobile phone back into her purse Olivia sighed. She wanted to call Mycroft; he could do something, anything. Looking back to the man on the pavement, she couldn't look at the blood anymore, or the man's sorrow filled eyes. It was heart breaking.

"Alright"

* * *

Molly's office was small but cozy, if a hospital could be considered cozy. Olivia's tea sat untouched on the small desk in front of her. This was not the day she had prepared for. Not that anyone is ever prepared for days like this one, but when she had stepped out her front door, leaving her family behind, she had the hope of mystery and intrigue, she had not expected to witness the suicide of Sherlock Holmes. Molly had left her to her own devises about an hour ago, and with each moment it became harder and harder to resist calling Mycroft. She was assured it was Sherlock's wish and Olivia knew that his requests usually served a purpose. However her resolve was faltering. She still couldn't believe it. Why? It was the only question racing through her mind. Had he changed so much from when she knew him? Because the Sherlock she knew would not have done this, he thought too highly of himself. A knock at the door disturbed her thoughts.

"We're ready for you." Molly said from the doorway. She looked nervous as she led Olivia down to the morgue. Olivia didn't understand what she was doing here. She hadn't seen Sherlock in years. Shouldn't Mycroft or his mother be here? Shouldn't his grieving friend outside be the one traveling down to the morgue. Not her.

"Please, I know this is difficult for you. But he is just through those doors" Molly said motioning to the large metal double doors.

"Why me?" Olivia asked more to herself than to anyone else.

"I don't know, he didn't tell me that part. I guess the less I know the better, at least that's what he thinks" Molly answered, suddenly Olivia caught the look in her eyes, sadness, loneliness, but more than all the rest sheer utter heartbreak. Molly gave Olivia a once over, then glanced down at herself. There was judgment in her eyes; it was a look most females know. One given when ex-lovers find a replacement, a look of 'what does she have that I don't'. It was a shocking gesture. Not because she couldn't have been more wrong. But because first the mourning man outside and now this girl, how much had Sherlock changed? He had mourning friends and a girl in love with him.

"Thank you Molly."

Slowly Olivia made her way to the doors. Hesitantly she opened them. The room was dim, little light coming in from the observatory windows. It couldn't have been set any better. The room was empty, all but the one metal slab in the center. Olivia gritted her teeth as she slowly approached the occupied table. And there he was, coat and scarf still in place. Blood matted his hair, making his curled locks stick to the side of his blood covered face. His eyes were closed as if he were only sleeping, peacefully. She could only stand there and stare at him, no tears came, her breath was even, she didn't understand how she could be so calm. But the longer she stood there, unable to take her eyes off his face, the more her fists clenched. The hotter her cheeks became, then suddenly she was filled with more anger than she could imagine.

"YOU SELFISH BASTARD!" she shouted. "AFTER ALL THIS TIME! ALL THIS TIME! YOU CALL ME HERE TO WATCH YOU KILL YOURSELF!" She couldn't bear to look at him any longer. She didn't want to be in the room anymore. Quickly she spun on her heal to leave, finally the tears catching in her eyes.

"You were the only person I could trust right now." Sherlock's baritone voice echoed in the room. Shocked Olivia turned just in time to see him straighten his coat as he sat on the edge of the morgue table.

"You're not dead!" she said stunned.

"Obviously" he replied, seeming bored with the way the conversation was going. Slowly she approached him, failing at keeping the completely dumbfounded look off her expression. In result to her minds slow uptake on the change of events she took to poking him in the shoulder to confirm he was actually in front of her.

"Why?" she whispered.

"The jumping off the rooftop matter I assume." He said. As she shook her head 'yes' in response he sighed.

"If I knew you were going to be practically catatonic I might as well have called Mycroft for assistance, though I am sure it wouldn't have been quite as easy to get him to go along with everything." Jumping from the table Sherlock removed his coat draping it across the slab, he moved gracefully to the sink in the corner. Removing the blood from his hands and face, little could be done about his hair.

"I had no choice. It is simple as that." Sherlock finally answered.

"No, it isn't as simple as that. Why did you jump and what the hell does this have to do with me?" Olivia said her patience draining quickly like sand from an hour glass.

"Since time is of the essence here I will make this brief. A man by the name of Moriarty, whose body is at this very moment in that freezer to your left, wanted to convince the world that I am a fraud, creating elaborate plans where doubt began to slip into everyone's minds. He killed himself so I would have no other option but to do what he wanted. Die and prove to the world that I am a fake that killed himself in shame of being discovered. He placed those I care about in the firing range, quite literally, to ensure this. It was me or them. I had to die or they did. So when I said I had no choice, it really was that simple."

"Why call me?"

"I have to remain dead until I know it is safe for them. Otherwise all of this is for nothing, and their blood will be on my hands."

"That seems so kind of you, thoughtful, so completely unlike yourself."

"You can't still be angry with me." Sherlock's brows furrowed, shocked by the mere thought of it.

"I assure you I can. And this little situation that you are so perfectly underplaying does not help."

"It was years ago why would you still be upset?" Sheer malice came over Olivia's expression.

"I will leave that to your superior deductive skills." she scoffed.

"Dull! You and Mycroft are so similar never letting go of the past. It was hardly my fault what happened, and yet I received all the blame. Perhaps you should direct your anger toward the people responsible. Your father seems the suitable target." Sherlock spouted. Olivia rolled her eyes in response, clenching her jaw to keep her temper in check. She felt like she was dealing with a child.

"Why not call Mycroft? I am sure he could handle this situation a lot better than I can. And so help me Sherlock if you say it is because he is your archenemy, I will put you back on that slab myself and you won't get up this time."

"I have to assume they are watching Mycroft, and I also have to accept it was him that gave Moriarty the information about me in the first place. That is why I called you. They know all about me and by association Mycroft." Olivia stared un-amused, as if that had explained anything.

"But I know Mycroft. He would never have told them about you, he would have spun stories and documents to insure you were never involved." Sherlock continued.

"Until now, thanks to you. I take it you want me to hide you."

"Yes, a few years should suffice. I can't imagine hired killers staying loyal for much longer than that."

"So let me get this straight. You want me to shelter you for a few years, while hired killers look for any sign of you. While they are just waiting to kill off all your acquaintances on the orders of a madman that just caused you to fake your suicide, am I wrong in that assumption?" Sherlock's face was stern as he listened to her speak. "And you want me to pull my family into all this madness?"

"I know it is a lot to a…"

"A lot to ask is an understatement!" Olivia interrupted. "Do you realize the danger you have put me in just by calling me today!" Sherlock opened his mouth to interject but was cut off "of course you do! You also realize any efforts Mycroft put into my safety are useless now!"

"He should have thought of that before he told a psychopath all about me! My life, and my childhood, those I care the most about!" Sherlock shouted. Sighing Olivia glanced down at her feet, too intimidated to meet his gaze.

"Today was the first day I have ever seen you care about anyone but yourself. I just wish I was privileged to that as well. Goodbye Sherlock." Olivia turned to the door, but her hand rested on the handle longer than it should.

"Please Olivia, after everything that has happened between us I know I have no right. But you are the only person I can trust, the only person that can help." Sympathy oozed from Sherlock's voice.

"Sherlock I knew you long enough to know your fake empathy when I hear it, just stop." She opened the door, the bright light from the hallway overexposing her features. Sherlock's heart skipped a beat as his mind fought for solutions.

"I will have the car pick you up out back, you have funeral arrangements to attend to." And with that she was through the door slamming it behind her, leaving Sherlock alone in the dark.

* * *

**A/N: Thanks for reading! Any feedback will be appreciated. I will also do my best to answer any questions or remarks. I hope to update soon. **

** I do not own Sherlock Holmes, otherwise I would be living in luxury. Owners Sir Arthur Conan Doyle and BBC**

**I am a little worried that this may be a bit slow, and because this is my first Sherlock fic I am quite nervous. Any constructive criticism will be valued greatly.**


	2. A New Home

**Chapter 2**

**A New Home**

* * *

Her black car pulled up to the service door behind the hospital, and to Sherlock's surprise he found Olivia driving. Making a quick dash for the passenger side he jumped in the car. Before he had a chance to pull his coat tails into the vehicle she was already moving. Olivia whipped the car around with ease speeding down the back alley with determined haste.

"Here put these on." she said handing Sherlock a black knitted hat and a pair of sunglasses. "And you should really remove that iconic coat of yours. You need to do this before we hit the main street. It would be a shame for someone to recognize you before the game has even begun."

"Of course, that was smart of you." He replied as he pulled the hat down passed his ears. "How did you get rid of your driver so effortlessly?"

"Please, I employ him. I explained I needed to be alone after the events of today, he seemed quite understanding. I gave him fare for the journey home and that was that." Sherlock hummed his response.

"Do you even have a driver's license? I can't imagine someone of your position driving often." Sherlock stated.

"So how have you faked your death so effortlessly might I ask?" she said mocking Sherlock's tone and quickly changing the subject. "Aren't people going to be poking around?"

"Molly is taking care of the records; my death obviously a suicide will be easy to forge on the autopsy report. John and Mycroft have already seen my body, and my funeral a closed casket. Molly is in place to stop any other investigations."

"And you think such a timid girl can do that?"

"She got you here didn't she?"

"Point taken" Olivia said smiling. "The girl is in love with you I am sure she would do anything to protect you. Which makes me wonder why not just stay with her, you've trusted her this far."

"Yes I know." Sherlock said boredom creeping into his tone. "The thought had entered my mind, but Moriarty's people would surely be watching her. She did date the man for a time." Giving Sherlock a side glance Olivia had a hard time believing it; maybe she wasn't as innocent and timid as she'd looked.

"And your mother?" Before Sherlock could answer Olivia pulled onto the main street. Reporters littered the area, some standing on the very spot Sherlock fell, while others across the street. It was a madhouse. Only the queen would have gotten more media attention. Ducking down in his seat Sherlock covered his face as much as he could. Olivia could only imagine the stories they were spinning. 'Coming up the discussion of how the fake genius Sherlock Holmes killed himself and the shocking reasons why' the news anchors would say. Glancing over to the man in question she couldn't help but feel sorry for him. She could try to keep the news broadcasts from him, hide the newspaper stories about him, but she knew him, somehow he would find out the truth.

"What about her?" he finally answered when they were away from chaos.

"Sherlock, this will break her heart. Isn't there a way to spare her that, maybe we could drive to Oxford? Tell her your plan?"

"My mother is not an actress; and people will expect a grieving mother. If she knows the truth no one will believe the lie, and I doubt she could keep it from Mycroft." Olivia laughed having to cup her hand around her mouth to stifle the sound. She received a confused and yet irritated look from Sherlock.

"What is amusing?"

"The Holmes boys aren't exactly known for their compassion. Mycroft will be back in the office by this afternoon, and no one will think it odd. So I truly doubt people would have a hard time believing that your mother would not act the same."

"It is a risk I am not willing to take."

"And that goes for your friends as well? No attempt to spare their feelings either?"

"Olivia if you weren't a person I know they are not watching. You wouldn't even be privileged to the fact that I am not dead."

"Oh what a privilege it is." Olivia stated sarcastically. A silence fell over the car for some time. Olivia welcomed it; it allowed her to think of what she was going to do. She still didn't completely know why she had accepted Sherlock's demanding plan. When everything else told her this was foolish. There was nothing stopping her from driving straight to the Diogenes Club and just dropping Sherlock off. She was sure Mycroft would relish in the fact that he hadn't actually been a direct cause of his younger brother's suicide. And here was her moment. Just as the thought had entered her mind the traffic light had turned red. And truly fate wanted her to make a decision. To her left the Club, and to her right the highway access that led straight to her home.

Sighing she couldn't bring herself to do it. Was it because she missed him? Or felt some sort of loyalty to him, she couldn't be sure. All she knew, as the light turned green, was that she couldn't betray Sherlock at that moment not when he had just sacrificed everything. His home, his friends, but she knew what affected him the most, his reputation. Not what people said about him, he never cared for people's opinions, but the fact that his mental prowess was now rejected. His truly fantastic mind was thrown in the gutter by people unworthy of even speaking the name Sherlock Holmes yet alone making judgments about him. Turning right Olivia relaxed in her seat, resolute in her choice.

"Where are you going?" Sherlock stated loudly. Olivia looked at him shocked 'he couldn't have known what I was thinking about.' She thought.

"Home, where else should I be going." She replied, an arrogant tone creeping into her voice.

"My funeral is tomorrow we should stay in London"

"You can if you wish but I can't Sherlock. I am going home."

"It is a waste for us to drive all this way again tomorrow" Sherlock stated as if he were speaking to Anderson. 'Wasn't it recognizable why it would have made sense to stay in London?' he thought.

"Us? What's stopping you from coming back by yourself?"

"I thought you would go to my funeral."

"I would say you were joking if I knew you didn't have a sense of humor."

"I see." Sherlock said turning his head to look out the window at the blurring city. Olivia knew instantly by his tone that she had somehow upset his not so delicate sensibilities.

"What?"

"If I died you wouldn't go to my funeral. I knew I'd upset you but I believe I failed to grasp the depth of it. Human emotion sometimes truly does surprise me."

"I would go."

"But you have just so clearly stated you are not."

"That's because you aren't dead Sherlock!" Olivia said exasperated.

"I am to everyone else"

"Fine I will go" Olivia said sighing.

"So we should just stay in London." Sherlock stated again.

"I already told you I can't." Olivia said, saying each word slowly as if talking to a child.

"Ah yes, the husband. I assume you will need to inform your husband of our impending arrival. Though I would advise somehow getting around the fact of who I am."

"My husband died Sherlock." Olivia said softly, fearing that her voice would falter.

"Well you did marry a man twice your age, it was to be expected."

"Yes Sherlock, I guess I should have expected it. I did marry him for position and financial support. So I can't see why his death would have affected me at all." She replied coldly. Her grip on the steering wheel tightened as she resisted hitting the man to her left. "He died in a car accident six months ago."

"I see. I was unaware. You still where your wedding ring and your clothing suggests you still dress for someone. Otherwise why still wear that uncomfortable lingerie. I know you aren't the sort of woman to even entertain the idea of a lover, so who else would you dress for, your husband. And the fact that you keep checking your mobile phone, communicating briefly through texts implies a personal relationship. And your constant checking of the time, someone worried you'd be home late? "

Exhaling Olivia replied. "I am not even going to ask how or why you know what undergarments I have on, or that you have been keeping track of my texts."

"Perhaps given the situation you would like me to drive, seeing as you don't have a license. It would be a shame to have you kill us both in the same manner your husband died." Olivia wasn't sure she wanted to surrender control of the car, but he did have a point. Sighing she pulled off to the shoulder.

"Just because I am doing this does not mean you were right. I had complete control." She said as she unlocked the doors to switch seats.

"I never said you didn't."

Sherlock eased down into the driver's seat adjusting everything to his specifications. He glanced to Olivia to see her watching him.

"What?"

"You… When did you get a license?" Olivia said skeptical.

"I got bored while at university, wanted to see what all the fuss was about. Really quite elementary, apes could just as easily get a license." Sherlock said putting the car in drive.

"I would like to see them try" Olivia laughed. Sighing deeply she relaxed in her seat, it was the first time she had realized she had been so tense for the last few hours.

* * *

As the sun began to set London gave way to lush hillsides and salt laden air as they traveled south to Eastbourne. The seaside town was a beautiful one. Old hotels and luxurious town houses dotted the coast. And long antique piers jutted out into the ocean. Large dark blue waves crashed upon the rocky shoreline. But this was not what made Eastbourne beautiful; it was the massive stunning white chalk cliffs. Thousands of feet high of stark white hills adjacent dark blue waters as far as the eye could see.

It was no surprise to Olivia when Sherlock didn't ask for directions to her home. Of course he would know. Driving along a hillside the town was far behind them. Then finally out of the darkness arose The Cavendish manor. The estate was large. A long gravel park led to the substantial home. Built on one of Eastbourne's white cliffs the house was equal in beauty. The large neoclassical manor stood strong against the black sky. Its white façade bright with large columns lining the front entrance, however the only signs of life inside the house came from the few lights that illuminated scattered rooms. This house was built for a large family and staff, but was so clearly inhabited by few.

"You've done well for yourself." Sherlock said as he stepped out of the car.

"This isn't mine, if I hadn't married a Cavendish I would still be living near my father. This house has been in my husband's family for ages. I'm just glad the rest of them haven't decided to boot me out of it yet." Rounding the corner she led Sherlock through the front door into the greeting hall. And what a hall it was. Large tapestries covered the walls depicting ancient scenes of knights on their horses. An enormous chandelier illuminated the room, revealing the massive staircase. The antique furnishings scattered the walls. Someone had decorated this house but it had been a century or two ago.

"Ah Ma'am your finally home, I was starting to get quite worried. When your driver informed me that you wanted to drive back yourself I didn't know what to think. Are you alright?" Helen said, the old woman was a brittle old thing, but stood tall. Not even the third world war would have stopped this bird. She had a determined look about her.

"Yes I am fine, nothing to worry about I assure you." As she spoke Sherlock closed the door loudly behind him. Poking her head around the corner Helen looked skeptical as she glanced between Sherlock and her employer.

"Who's this?" Helen asked adjusting her glasses.

"A guest." Before Helen could inquire further hurried footsteps came from the hall above.

"I am sorry ma'am; Christopher wanted to wait up for you. If I had known it would be so late I would never have allowed it." Helen said looking Olivia dead in the eyes daring her to even think about questioning her judgment.

"It quite alright, thank you for staying up so late, if I had known I would have made arrangements"

"That's my job" Helen said smiling.

"MUMMY!" screamed a small voice from the top on the rather large staircase.

"Darling!" Olivia yelled back, going up the stairs to grab the little boy before his struggling little limbs resulted in him falling down the stairs. "Thank you Helen you can go home for the night, I think we can manage. However I know it is a lot to ask given the events of today, but would you mind staying again tomorrow I have a funeral I must attend."

"Of course, I am so sorry to hear that. Please if you need anything don't hesitate to ask."

"Thank you, goodnight."

"Goodnight ma'am" as she headed to the front door Helen gave Sherlock a final glance, trying desperately to figure out the new arrival. Olivia could honestly say she had never seen the man so silent. There he was standing against the wall, he hadn't moved once since he had entered the greeting hall.

"You have a son." His deep voice resonated in the room. He had said it more to himself than address Olivia; however she answered his statement nonetheless.

"Yes this is my son Christopher, Say hello sweetheart." In response to being on display all the sudden the dark haired boy hid his face with his mother's neck. "It's alright, trust me, he won't mind rudeness." She said glancing at Sherlock. Before another word could be said she was carrying Christopher back up the staircase toward where his footsteps had come. Not entirely sure of where to go in the massive manor Sherlock decided to follow his rude hostess. He followed the sounds and light until he was at the door of what was obviously a child's room. Various toys littered the floor and maps old and new were plastered on the walls. Olivia was sitting on the bedside of the little boy trying to get the squirming figure to lie still.

"It's time for bed now." She said smoothing down his wild curly locks.

"But Mummy where were you?"

"I had to pick a man up from London today."

"Daddy?"

"No not daddy sweetheart, you need to go to sleep now, because how about tomorrow I get Helen to take you to the beach. You can get more seashells for your collection."

"I want you to go."

"I know, but I can't tomorrow. Next time okay."

"Mm-kay" he replied as she tucked the covers in around him. Before she had even turned out the bedside table light the boy's eyes were already fluttering in exhaustion. Sherlock stood in the doorway fascinated by the little one. Olivia really wasn't the same woman he once knew, just as he wasn't the same man. Sidestepping to allow Olivia to silently close the door Sherlock watched as the happiness from her eyes faded with each passing second.

"He still doesn't seem to understand that his father isn't coming back. I've tried to explain but he just seems to think he's on holiday."

"I didn't know you had a family." Sherlock stated catching Olivia off guard. She had dealt with the man all day through more emotional situations then she cared to think about and now was when he sounded sincere. Now of all times did she know he meant it.

"Of course I do Sherlock. You couldn't expect me to just stop living because you weren't in my life anymore. Granted my life isn't straight out of a detective story like yours is. I can't solve crimes and roam the streets at night solving puzzles. My life is now common mediocrity, but I'm okay with that."

"Olivia I swear to you I wasn't aware."

"I honestly didn't expect you to. Your mind is full of solutions I don't imagine you have room for my personal life." She said lightly touching his arm. "Sherlock it has been a long day. I'll show you your room then bid you goodnight."

Walking down the long dark hall Olivia led Sherlock merely two rooms away from Christopher's. The room was spacious with large bay windows. A large bed flanked by draped windows was the only focal point. No art scattered the walls, nothing to take away from the breathtaking views. Even in the darkness Sherlock could make out the white cliffs and sea not far beyond that.

"This will do nicely."

"I thought so, at least for the time being. My room is the last on the right, which I am sure you're already aware of; and I do believe you can figure out the layout of my home yourself, if you haven't already. If you need anything help yourself."

"Yes"

"Goodnight Sherlock." Before he could reply she was already walking down the hallway to her room.

Sighing he looked around his own room. It was nothing like 221b. Closing the door behind him he tried to settle in. But this was a house that wasn't his, a bed that wasn't his own, and housemates that didn't want him there. It was now that thoughts of John crept into his consciousness. What was John doing now? Was he in their flat? Could he bring himself to go back there? Hopefully Mrs. Hudson was taking care of him, bringing him tea and biscuits as she always did. Then suddenly like a ton of bricks it hit him. John's sorrowful voice 'please he's my friend, my friend.' John desperately trying to take hold of his hand, begging the heavens that what was before him was not reality. Sherlock felt the sting in his eyes. Sighing deep he let his head fall into his hands. A sob raked his body. This was to be a long sleepless night.

* * *

**A/N: Thanks for reading! Any feedback will be appreciated. I will also do my best to answer any questions or remarks. I hope to update soon.**

** I do not own Sherlock Holmes, otherwise I would be living in luxury. Owners Sir Arthur Conan Doyle and BBC**

**Expect Mycroft and others next chapter. The Funeral. **


End file.
